Mrs. Plant is Apprehensive
“Great Scott!” Alec exclaimed, considerably startled. “Find the
murderer?”
Roger seemed pleased with the impression he had made. “Naturally. What
else? It’s the logical sequel to what we’ve already done, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Alec hesitated, “if you put it like that. But——
Well, we seem to be getting on so jolly fast. I mean, it’s rather
difficult to realise that a murder’s been committed at all. It all
seems so impossible, you know.”
“That’s simply because it’s something foreign to your usual experience
of life,” Roger said thoughtfully. “I admit that it is a bit of a
shock at first to face the fact that Stanworth was murdered instead of
committing suicide. But that’s not because there’s anything inherently
improbable about murder itself. Murder’s a common enough event if it
comes to that. But it doesn’t generally take place among the circle of
one’s immediate friends; that’s the trouble. Anyhow, there’s no
getting over it in this case. If ever a man was murdered, Stanworth
was. And very cleverly murdered, too. I tell you, Alec, it’s no
ordinary criminal we’re after. It’s an extraordinarily cool, brainy,
and calculating sort of person indeed.”
“Calculating?” Alec repeated. “Then do you think it was premeditated?”
“Impossible to say, as yet. But I should certainly imagine so. It
looks as if it had been very carefully thought out beforehand, doesn’t
it?”
“There doesn’t seem to have been much left to chance,” Alec agreed.
“And look at the deliberation of the fellow. Fancy stopping to collect
those bits of vase and cover up the traces of that second shot like
that! He must have some nerve. Yes, it certainly looks more and more
as if it was a prearranged thing. I don’t say for last night in
particular; that may only have been a favourable opportunity which the
chap was quick to seize. But I do think that he’d made up his mind to
kill Stanworth some time or other.”
“You think it was somebody Stanworth knew, then?”
“Oh, there’s not much doubt about that. And somebody he was vastly
afraid of, too, I should imagine. Why else should he keep a revolver
so handy, if he wasn’t expecting something of the kind? Yes, that’s
the line we ought to go on—see if we can discover whether there was
anybody among his acquaintances of whom Stanworth was thoroughly
frightened. If we can only find that out, and the name of the person
as well, the odds are ten to one that we shall have solved the mystery
of the murderer’s identity.”
“That sounds reasonable enough,” said Alec with interest. “Got any
theory of how it was done?”
Roger beamed. “I believe I can tell you exactly how it was done,” he
said, not without pride. “Listen!”
He recounted at some length the results of his after-lunch meditations
and explained the reasons upon which his conclusions had been based.
It took the two of them several circuits of the rose garden before the
recital was completed, and then Roger turned expectantly to his
companion.
“You see?” he concluded eagerly. “That accounts for everything except
the facts of the confession and the murderer’s escape from the
library. Now I’ve cleared up the confession, and we’ve only got one
difficulty to get over. What do you think of it?”
“Humph!” observed Alec cautiously. He paused, and it was evident that
he was thinking deeply.
“Well?” asked Roger impatiently.
“There’s one thing I don’t quite see,” Alec said slowly. “According to
you the shot that killed Stanworth was fired from the other man’s
revolver. Then how is it that the bullet they took out of his head
fitted the empty shell in his _own_ revolver?”
Roger’s face fell. “Hullo!” he exclaimed. “That never occurred to me.”
“I thought it couldn’t have,” said Alec complacently. “That rather
knocks your theory on the head, doesn’t it?”
“It’s one to you, Watson, certainly,” Roger smiled a little ruefully.
“Ah!” observed Alec deeply. He was evidently not going to spoil the
impression he had just made by any rash remarks. Alec was one of those
fortunate people who know just when to stop.
“Still, after all,” Roger said slowly, “that’s only a matter of
detail, isn’t it? My version of how it happened may be quite wrong.
But that doesn’t affect the main issue, which is that it _was_ done.”
“In other words, the fact of murder is definitely established, you
think, although you don’t know how it was carried out?” Alec asked
thoughtfully.
“Precisely.”
“Humph! And do you still think the motive was robbery?”
“I do. And—— By Jove!” Roger stopped suddenly in his stride and turned
exultantly to his companion. “That may account for Mrs. Plant, too!”
“What about Mrs. Plant?”
“Well, didn’t you notice her at lunch? She was as cheerful and
unconcerned as anything. Rather a change from the very perturbed
person we surprised at the safe this morning, wasn’t it? And on the
face of it you’d have expected her to be still more worried, with the
prospect of the opening of the safe this afternoon and the proving of
her little story to us to be false. But was she? Not a bit of it. She
looked as if she hadn’t a trouble in the world. You must have noticed
it.”
“Yes, I did, now you come to mention it. I thought she must be
acting.”
“Mrs. Plant wasn’t acting at lunch any more than she was telling the
truth to us this morning,” said Roger with conviction. “And why wasn’t
she? Because for some mysterious reason or other she had no need to
be. In other words, she knew that when the safe was opened this
afternoon, everything would be all right as far as she was concerned.”
“How on earth did she know that?”
“I wish I could tell you. But consider. If the safe had been robbed
last night, Mrs. Plant’s jewels would have disappeared with the other
valuables, wouldn’t they? That is, assuming that they had ever been
there. Well, there’s her answer to us. ‘Oh, yes, my jewels _were_
there, and that’s why I wanted to get at the safe; but they’ve been
stolen with everything else, and that’s why they’re not there now.’
See?”
“Yes, but what I want to know is, how did she find out that the safe
had been robbed and her story to us would hold water after all?”
“And that’s exactly what I want to know, too, my excellent Alec. If we
only knew that, we should have advanced a long way to the solution of
the mystery. All that we can say definitely is that, some time between
our finding her in the library and lunch time, information must have
reached her about what happened to the safe last night. It seems to me
that Mrs. Plant is going to find herself in a very awkward position
rather soon.”
“But why do you think Mrs. Plant wanted to open the safe this morning,
if there’s no truth in her tale?”
“Obviously there must have been something inside that she badly wanted
to get hold of. Equally obviously she now either has got hold of it,
or knows that it’s in safe keeping. And then we get back to Jefferson
again. He’s been going through exactly the same sequence of emotions
as Mrs. Plant. What do you make of that?”
“Surely you’re not suggesting that Jefferson and Mrs. Plant are in
league together, are you?”
“What other conclusion is there? They’re both anxious to get something
out of that safe before the police open it, and they’re both palpably
worried to death over something. Yet at one o’clock they’re both
smiling away to themselves as if a tremendous load had been taken off
their minds. I’m afraid that they’re not only in league with each
other, but with a mysterious third person as well. How else can you
account for their behaviour?”
“Good Lord! You don’t mean that they’re acting with—with the murderer,
do you?”
“It looks to me uncommonly like it,” said Roger gravely. “After all,
he’s the only person, so far as we know, who could have enlightened
them about the safe.”
“But it’s out of the question!” Alec burst out impulsively.
“Jefferson—I don’t know anything about him, though I should certainly
have set him down as quite a decent fellow and a sahib, even if he is
a bit reserved. But Mrs. Plant! My dear chap, you’re absolutely off
the rails there. Of all the obviously straightforward and honest
people in the world, I should have said that Mrs. Plant was the most.
Oh, you _must_ be on the wrong tack!”
“I only wish I were,” Roger returned seriously. “Three hours ago I
should have said that the idea of Mrs. Plant being mixed up in a
murder was not only unthinkable, but ludicrous. I’ve always thought
her a charming woman, and, as you say, absolutely sincere. Certainly
not a happy woman (one doesn’t know anything about that husband of
hers, by the way; he may be a bad egg); in fact, a woman with a good
deal of sorrow in her life, I should say. But absolutely as straight
as a die. Yet what can one think now? Facts speak louder than
opinions. And the facts are only too plain.”
“I don’t care,” said Alec obstinately. “If you’re trying to mix Mrs.
Plant up in this affair, you’re making a hopeless mistake, Roger.
That’s all I’ve got to say.”
“I hope you’re right, Alec,” Roger said dryly. “By the way, I think I
want to have a word with the lady. Oh, I’m not going to tax her with
the murder or anything,” he added with a smile, observing the look on
Alec’s face. “But I think she said at lunch that she was expecting to
leave here this afternoon. Of course that’s out of the question. She
was the last person to see Stanworth alive, and she’ll be wanted to
give evidence at the inquest. The inspector must have forgotten to
tell her. Let’s go and see what she’s got to say about it.”
Somewhat unwillingly Alec accompanied Roger on his quest. He did not
attempt to make any secret of his distaste for this aspect of his new
rôle. To hunt down a man who deserves no mercy and expects none is one
thing; to hunt down a charming lady is very much another.
Mrs. Plant was sitting in a garden chair on a shady part of the lawn.
There was a book in her lap, but she was staring abstractedly at the
grass before her and her thoughts were evidently very far away.
Hearing their footsteps she glanced up quickly and greeted the two
with her usual quiet, rather sad smile.
“Have you come to tell me that Inspector Mansfield has arrived?” she
asked, perfectly naturally.
Roger threw himself casually on the ground just in front of her.
“No, he hasn’t come yet,” he replied easily. “Very hot out here, isn’t
it?”
“I suppose it is. But the heat doesn’t worry me, I’m glad to say. I
had enough of it in the Soudan to inure me to anything that this
country can produce.”
“You’re lucky then. Alec, why on earth don’t you lie down and be
comfortable? Never stand up when you can sit down instead. By the way,
Mrs. Plant, I suppose you’ll be staying over for the inquest
to-morrow, won’t you?”
“Oh, no. I shall be off this afternoon, Mr. Sheringham.”
Roger glanced up. “But surely you’ll be wanted to give evidence? You
were the last person to see him alive, weren’t you? In the hall, you
know?”
“Oh, I—I don’t think I shall be needed, shall I?” Mrs. Plant asked
apprehensively, paling slightly. “The inspector didn’t—he didn’t say
anything about it.”
“Perhaps he didn’t know then that you were the last person,” said
Roger carelessly, but watching her narrowly. “And afterwards he must
have forgotten to warn you; or else he was intending to do so this
afternoon. But they’re certain to need you, you know.”
It was very clear that this piece of news was highly unwelcome. Mrs.
Plant’s hand was trembling in her lap, and she was biting her lip in
an effort to retain her self-control.
“Do you really think so?” she asked, in a voice that she strove
desperately to render unconcerned. “But I haven’t got anything of—of
any importance to tell, you know.”
“Oh, no, of course not,” Roger said reassuringly. “It’s only a matter
of form, you know. You’ll just have to repeat what you told the
inspector this morning.”
“Will they—— Are they likely to ask me any questions, Mr. Sheringham?”
Mrs. Plant asked, with a little laugh.
“Oh, they may ask you one or two, perhaps. Nothing very dreadful.”
“I see. What sort of questions, would you imagine?”
“About Mr. Stanworth’s manner, probably. Whether he was cheerful, and
all that. And of course they’ll want to know what he spoke to you
about.”
“Oh, that was nothing,” Mrs. Plant replied quickly. “Just about—— Oh,
nothing of any importance whatever. Er—you will be giving evidence,
too, won’t you, Mr. Sheringham?”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
Only the white knuckles of her clenched hand gave any hint of Mrs.
Plant’s feelings as she asked lightly enough, “And you’re not going to
give me away over that absurd panic of mine about my jewels this
morning, are you? You promised, didn’t you?”
“Of course not!” said Roger easily. “Wouldn’t dream of it!”
“Not even if they ask you?” Mrs. Plant persisted, with a nervous
little laugh.
“How could they ask me?” Roger smiled. “Nobody knows anything about it
except us three. Besides, I shouldn’t think of giving you away.”
“Nor you, Mr. Grierson?” she asked, turning to Alec.
Alec flushed slightly. “Naturally not,” he said awkwardly.
Mrs. Plant fumbled with the handkerchief in her hand and
surreptitiously wiped her mouth.
“Thank you so much, both of you,” she said in a low voice.
Roger jumped suddenly to his feet.
“Hullo!” he exclaimed, putting an end to a difficult pause. “Isn’t
that the inspector just going up to the front door? Let’s go in and
watch the safe being opened, shall we?”